


Distraction

by maybeeatspaghetti



Series: Shameless Whizzvin Smut [3]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Whizzer Brown, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Edging, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Teasing, Top Marvin (Falsettos), they fuck watching I Love Lucy and then can't stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeeatspaghetti/pseuds/maybeeatspaghetti
Summary: Whizzer and Marvin have gotten into the habit of fucking while watching TV. Now, over at Trina and Mendel's for dinner one night, Jason turns on the TV and Whizzer and Marvin find themselves in an, ahem, frustrating situation.Whizzer had a terrible habit of getting aroused while watching TV.It was like a Pavlovian response at this point, and it always tended to be activated at the worst times.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: Shameless Whizzvin Smut [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850437
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Distraction

Whizzer had a terrible habit of getting aroused while watching TV. 

It was like a Pavlovian response at this point, and it always tended to be activated at the worst times. He’d be passing a shop or bar with a TV blaring and his whole body would tingle and his pants would begin to tighten, and if he didn’t move away, he’d have a problem on his hands. Once, he had been over at a friend’s house and someone had turned on a football game. Whizzer had tried to ignore it, he really had, but it’s hard when your pants are starting to tent and your cock is begging to be touched, so he’d had to excuse himself and pull himself off in the bathroom, biting down on his knuckles to keep from crying out when he came. And that was far from the first time he’d had to take care of a problem while out and about. His uncontrollable response was getting ridiculous. Damn Marvin for training him to react this way.

It started by accident. Whizzer was trying to watch _I Love Lucy_ reruns and Marvin was horny and wouldn’t leave him alone, so they compromised by Marvin laying on the couch and Whizzer lowering himself down onto Marvin’s cock and just sitting there, shifting minutely and lazily stroking himself to full hardness while he kept watching. He only allowed Marvin to actually fuck into him during the ad breaks, and he pulled off if Marvin couldn’t control himself and stay still once the show came back on. 

Whizzer, relishing this power play, turned his focus back to the TV, pretending he wasn’t as affected as he was, pretending that Marvin’s cock stretching him open and pressing on all the right places wasn’t as big a turn on as it was. And poor Marvin, _so_ aroused, flushed red and gripping the couch cushions so hard his knuckles were white, eyes unfocused and glassy, was trying not to give into that primal urge to thrust, trying not to tip over the edge while Whizzer sat on him, unmoving and apparently unconcerned. Whizzer almost felt bad for him, so he reached down and ran his fingers through Marvin’s sweaty hair. A ragged, involuntary sound was pulled from Marvin’s throat, and he couldn’t help but thrust the tiniest bit. Whizzer was off him in a flash and Marvin thrust desperately into empty air. Whizzer pressed down on Marvin’s hips, keeping him still. Marvin whimpered.

“It’s not an ad yet, is it?”

“It is now,” Marvin croaked. 

Whizzer looked at the screen. Marvin was right. “Yeah, but you started before the ad break so you’ll have to wait until the next one now.”

Marvin whimpered again and his hands moved to touch himself, to relieve the pressure, but Whizzer anticipated that and grabbed his wrists before he could, holding them up and away. The show resumed.

“I’m going to get back on. Don’t you dare move. You insisted on interrupting so you have to wait.”

Whizzer swung his leg across Marvin and positioned himself above his red, leaking cock. A purple vein was bulging down the side—his cock was so hard it looked painful. Whizzer lowered himself down centimeter by centimeter, slower than even he would have liked, but he was determined to make this as rough for Marvin as possible. Once he bottomed out, he looked down at Marvin. Marvin’s face was such a dark shade of red it looked unnatural, and his lips were swollen and red from biting down on them desperately. 

Whizzer tore his eyes away from his lover and focused back on the TV. Marvin whined and pawed at him limply, understanding he was completely at Whizzer’s mercy. Whizzer wrapped a hand loosely around himself and stroked himself up to the edge. When he was about to come, he let go and his cock bobbed, flushed and dripping and nearing the point of pain. When the feeling receded, he touched himself until he was teetering on the edge again, and again backed off. He repeated this a couple more times until he was desperate for release too. 

The show finally ended, and as the credits rolled, Whizzer moved. He put his hands on Marvin’s chest and lifted and lowered himself on Marvin’s cock slowly and Marvin nearly cried at how slow he was going. Finally deciding he had teased them both enough, Whizzer lay down, his chest to Marvin’s.

“Do it, baby.”

It was like a coil snapped. Marvin thrust up into him frantically, chasing that release, and it only took five or six good thrusts before he groaned and snapped his hips up once—twice—and he was coming inside Whizzer with a strangled cry, his eyes rolling back in his head, his mouth falling open as he rode out his orgasm, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of Whizzer’s ass. Not that Whizzer minded a bit of pain. His cock had been sliding between his and Marvin’s bellies, slickened by precum, and when Marvin came, he didn’t even have to touch himself—he came too, spurting between them, his cock twitching as he came down from his release.

So that was how it started. 

They kept fucking while watching TV, and they fucked that way so often that Whizzer would come home and Marvin would have the TV on and Whizzer would start getting hard the moment he walked in the door. He’d walk into the room to find Marvin on the couch, naked from the waist down, stroking himself, eyes glued to the TV, and Whizzer would trip over his feet in his haste to unbuckle his belt and go join him.

Their TV-fueled sex sessions had been going on for weeks. And now he and Marvin found themselves at Trina and Mendel’s for dinner, and Jason had just turned on the TV to watch a baseball game while Trina and Mendel were cooking in the kitchen. The sound from the TV floated through the apartment and Whizzer felt his cheeks burning and heat rushing to his groin. Fuck. They couldn’t do this here. Absolutely not. He locked eyes with Marvin across the room and saw that Marvin’s pupils had dilated and a pink flush was spreading up his neck. Whizzer tried to keep his breathing in check. This was their own damn fault. 

Marvin walked to the doorway and poked his head into the living room.

“Jason. Kid. Do you think you could turn that off?” Marvin asked. “It’s distracting.”

“No. This is a really important game and I can’t miss it. I’ve been waiting all season for this.”

Marvin looked over at Whizzer. Fuck. They were screwed. There was nowhere in this apartment they could go to be by themselves for fifteen minutes without everybody noticing. And they couldn’t just run off to the bathroom together. That would be suspicious too. They could go down to Marvin’s car, but Marvin’s car was parked on a busy street and Whizzer was not about to get arrested for public sex. The sound from the TV caused a pleasant buzzing in his ears and he resisted the urge to palm himself through his pants. That was completely inappropriate. They would just have to wait it out.

Whizzer was surprised, to say the least, when he was suddenly manhandled to his feet by Marvin and taken into the living room.

“You have to be quiet,” Marvin whispered in Whizzer’s ear as he guided him to the couch, which was nestled in a corner of the room. 

Jason was sprawled out in an armchair in front of the TV and didn’t even look their way when they came in. Marvin tugged Whizzer down to sit next to him and pulled one pillow into his lap and another against Whizzer’s side to keep him at least mostly concealed from anyone who walked in the room. Marvin toed his shoes off and brought his knees up, his feet resting on the couch cushions. He draped an arm casually around Whizzer’s shoulder.

“Marvin,” Whizzer hissed. “We _can’t_. Your child is in the room for fuck’s sake. Ah, _fuck_.”

Marvin had pressed his hand down on the bulge in Whizzer’s pants. Whizzer’s eyes watered. For once, in this situation, Marvin had the upper hand. Marvin was in control. 

Marvin stroked him through the fabric and Whizzer’s breath came in labored pants. When Marvin gave his cock a good squeeze, Whizzer gave a very undignified, unmanly whimper.

“Shhh,” Marvin breathed in his ear, and kissed his cheek.

“Whoa! Whizzer, did you see that?” Jason was looking at him now, pointing at the screen.

Marvin’s hand stilled, but he didn’t remove it and just cupped Whizzer through the fabric. Whizzer realized belatedly that he still hadn’t responded to Jason and Jason was looking at him.

“Yeah.” His voice cracked. “Yeah. That was amazing, Jason.”

Jason turned back to the screen, talking about something that had just happened, but Whizzer’s head was swimming and he couldn’t hear anything but Marvin’s breathing in his ear.

Whizzer reached his hand out blindly and stroked two fingers over Marvin’s cock. Two could play at this game. Whizzer dipped his fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear and brushed his fingers over the silky wet head of Marvin’s cock. Marvin’s head dropped back on the couch, his mouth falling open just a little bit at the sensation. Whizzer rubbed at his slit with one finger, wetted by the precum that was gathering there. He swirled his finger around, reveling in the way he could make Marvin’s breath catch when he applied just the slightest pressure to his slit. Keeping his eyes locked on Marvin’s, Whizzer removed his hand and lifted his finger to his lips. He slipped his finger into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks as he sucked on his finger, the sweet-salty taste of _Marvin_ on his lips. Marvin’s eyes darkened and he glanced at Jason to see if his son was at all aware of what was happening on the couch, but Jason was completely absorbed by the baseball game, and the sound of the game was generally loud enough to drown out the breathy moans Marvin had been making when Whizzer was touching him.

Marvin pushed Whizzer down to lay on the couch, facing out, and Marvin lay behind him and rutted slowly against him, the clothing between them providing delicious friction, if Marvin’s shaky breaths were anything to go by. Whizzer was clutching a pillow to his groin, trying not to make any noise as Marvin’s hand snaked across his hip and traced the outline of his cock through his pants, hidden by the pillow. When Marvin flicked at the head of Whizzer’s cock through the fabric, Whizzer’s body shivered involuntarily and he let out a moan which he quickly disguised as a cough. Jason didn’t even look up. 

“Shhh,” Marvin breathed in his ear once again, and removed his hand, resting it on Whizzer’s hip instead.

Marvin kept rutting against him for what felt like an eternity, until suddenly, his entire body shuddered and he bit down on Whizzer’s shirt, _hard_ , his hips jerking sloppily against Whizzer’s ass, and Whizzer knew he had come. 

Marvin was still reeling from the effects of his orgasm when Trina called them to dinner. He kissed Whizzer’s cheek and hurried to the bathroom to clean himself up before going to the table. Whizzer knew he couldn’t possibly take care of his own arousal in time, so he adjusted himself in his trousers, washed his hands, and went to quickly sit down at the table. Hopefully dinner wouldn’t drag on for hours. He didn’t know if he could stand it.

Marvin slid into the seat beside him and rested his hand on Whizzer’s thigh like he normally did, as though he hadn’t just dry humped him to climax in the living room just five minutes ago. Whizzer rested his hand on top of Marvin’s briefly, trying to distract from the feeling of having Marvin’s hand so very close to his still-unsatisfied cock.

Just because they were now at the dinner table instead of on the couch, and thus had more of an audience, did not stop Marvin from taking advantage of the concealment afforded by the tablecloth. Marvin didn’t remove his hand from Whizzer’s thigh, not even after they began eating, and it inched closer to Whizzer’s groin until Marvin buried his hand between Whizzer’s thighs and stroked upwards. Whizzer jolted forward at the touch, shaking the table.

“Sorry,” he said. “I bumped my knee, is all.”

Marvin’s hand was still there, two fingers flicking back and forth over his cock and balls, intensifying everything Whizzer had felt up to that point. A faint rushing sound started to fill his ears. He tried to lift a forkful of food to his mouth, to at least keep up the pretense that he was eating, but Marvin’s fingers just felt _so good_ that his arm shook and the food fell off the fork and onto his plate before it reached his mouth. He looked at Marvin, eating and talking as though Whizzer wasn’t falling apart next to him.

Marvin's fingers felt so good, and he shifted his hips in the chair to complement Marvin’s strokes, and the rushing in his ears intensified. He was going to come, oh god, he was going to come, and—

“Whizzer, are you okay?” Trina’s voice broke through the white noise, and no, fuck, _fuck_ , he was not going to have a fucking orgasm at the dinner table while his boyfriend’s ex-wife, ex-psychiatrist, and son watched. 

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I don’t feel very good.” He fled the table for the bathroom. 

He heard Marvin say, “It might have been something he ate earlier; he hasn’t been feeling very well today,” and then he heard the scrape of a chair and Marvin was knocking on the bathroom door.

“You all right, baby?”

Whizzer flung open the door, eyes bugging out, hair wild and untamed, his pants halfway unzipped. “You bloody well know I’m not all right,” he hissed, and yanked Marvin inside, shutting the door behind him. Marvin pushed him up against the sink and knelt down in front of him. Marvin unzipped him all the way and tugged his pants down to his thighs. He mouthed at the hard line of Whizzer’s cock through his underwear, his mouth hot and urgent, and Whizzer rocked his hips against Marvin’s face shamelessly.

“God, Whizzer,” Marvin said, and he pressed his face against Marvin’s clothed cock, inhaling the sweaty, sticky scent that gathered there. “God, Whizzer.”

“Do that thing you were doing at the table,” Whizzer ordered. “With your fingers. I want—ahh, fuck, fuck.”

Marvin had stood and was flicking at Whizzer’s cock and balls from underneath with two fingers again, and it was perfect, just enough to make his body feel like a tightly wound spring, and one good flick of Marvin’s fingers and pure white-hot heat exploded behind his eyes as he came with a muffled shout into Marvin’s shoulder.

He had been on the edge so long that when he finally came down from his orgasm high, his limbs felt like jelly. Marvin had to practically hold him up as he cleaned him off and zipped up his pants. Marvin chuckled at him and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

“You look like you’ve just been thoroughly fucked into oblivion,” Marvin said, and Whizzer pinched him, hard. He yelped and smacked Whizzer on the ass in retaliation. “What was that for?”

“We are _never_ fucking in front of the TV again,” Whizzer gasped. “Never, never, never. We are breaking that habit starting _today_. I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re so horny you could die. You can bloody well wait an hour. And if you can’t, you have a perfectly good hand you can use. No more TV sex. _Ever_.”

Marvin laughed. “If you say so…” 

“No, we are not negotiating this. No more TV sex.”

“We’ll talk about it later. Come on. The food’s getting cold. We’ll tell them you’re feeling better, which is the truth.”

Whizzer let Marvin lead him out of the bathroom, hands still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. Whizzer knew Marvin would try to change his mind, talk him out of it, but Whizzer had suffered enough humiliation to never want to do that again. Marvin could whine and complain all he wanted, but Whizzer was going to be immovable. Unflappable. They were _never_ going to fuck with the TV on again. His mind was made up.


End file.
